


seventy-four years

by leopoldjamesfitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopoldjamesfitz/pseuds/leopoldjamesfitz
Summary: His arms encompassed her the moment they were in the clear. Her heart slammed against her chest, making her feel dizzy and a little shaky, but she falls into him, her own arms wrapping around him, too, after a moment. He was speaking into her hair, but she couldn’t pick out what he was saying.It sounded a lot like, “I’m glad you’re okay.”She’d never agreed with him more.AKA: How many S5 reunion fics can I write before the actual one happens





	seventy-four years

**Author's Note:**

> I ruined Adrienne's life with this, and now I'm ruining my own by actually writing this, and subsequently yours. This is a mess, and I own all mistakes, but please do enjoy. Episode 5 was fantastic, though, wasn't it?

His arms encompassed her the moment they were in the clear. Her heart slammed against her chest, making her feel dizzy and a little shaky, but she falls into him, her own arms wrapping around him, too, after a moment. He was speaking into her hair, but she couldn’t pick out what he was saying.

It sounded a lot like, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She’d never agreed with him more.

The first thing she noted was that he was cool to the touch, in the same way that he was when they were still in the playground, the air conditioners a constant source of complaining, but also different. He smells different, too, like woods and sweat but still like home.

His lips haphazardly press along her skull, his hands slow slipping away from the tight embrace he’d brought her in, leaving a burning sensation behind with each movement of his palms.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to sleep listening to his heartbeat.

A part of her wanted to speak up, to remind him that there was no such thing as safety. Not in this place. Not after what they’d just done. There were people to answer to, she was sure, and it wasn’t even the scariest thing she’d faced, not by a long shot, because she hadn’t felt the same sort of fear since the moment she realized Fitz might’ve spent the rest of his life alone.

She’d once said that they were twice as smart together, and that was inevitably what had brought their partnership together in the first place. But in recent years, Jemma had learned that they were twice as strong together, too, and they would figure this out. Together.

“Fitz,” she breathed out finally, breath shaky and eyes wet, in the midst of his lips trailing along the crown of her head – she’d been so wrapped up that she hadn’t realized he was still almost tracing her features, but she felt the heat as it warmed her, every light kiss making her heart squeeze a little more.

He ignored her, though, and for the most part she wasn’t bothered, not by him taking his time to remember all the things he’d might’ve forgotten, not when he was right there. She wanted to ask him how – wanted to know if he’d stared the white monolith in the eye as it took him, too, but she swallowed the undesirable questions down and focused on him.

His lips dropped to her forehead, resting there for a moment, and a lone tear dropped against her cheek. It took her a reeling moment to realize that he was crying, too, and she held him tighter in response.

Jemma couldn’t fathom the journey in which brought him there, to this moment; she could barely fathom her own journey. But they were safe (for now at least) and that was all that mattered.

Fitz pulled away after what seemed like a lifetime, his lips continuing their path until he pressed one final touch along her jawline, his hand moving to cradle the other side of her face. The pad of his finger pressed against the apple of her cheek and she swallowed down a sob that still managed to choke it’s way out of her larynx.

“What took you so long?” She asked finally, her voice watery and lips trembling. There was no heat behind her words, no anger, just relief.

The face he made when he looked back at her made her think he knew that too.

His lips quivered, quirking up into a half smile as he exhaled slowly. He looked so relieved, she thought, so happy. It was a stark contrast from the last time they’d seen one another.

“Missed my ride,” he rasped finally, his brogue thick with emotion. “Had to take the long way home.”

Her heart clenched in her chest and before she knew it, she was hysterically laughing. She could almost feel all the tension slip away from her all at once. It didn’t erase the past few weeks, it didn’t erase the trauma, and she imagined it missed him, as well, but in those few brief moments of laughter, his own ringing in her ears as she pressed her forehead against his, it was enough.

Home, she thought idly, tracing her fingertips along his cheeks as she holds his face, the scratchiness of his beard tickling the palms of her hands. Home is wherever she was with him.

Time, an illusion anyway, seemed to slow down, just as she pressed onto the tips of her toes, lifting the few inches of distance that remained between them. Their bodies had melded together, the long pale blue of her robe a stark contrast to the dark, uneven edges of his attire, and then, all at once, he bent down too and their lips fell together.

What was meant to be a simple peck disappeared the moment it happened. In the corner of the room that they’d hidden in, with her back pressed just on the wall by the door frame because they hadn’t made it that far, he pressed closer, knocking them until the entire length of her body was aligned with the wall.

His hands held her hips, bruises forming under the weight of his grip but the grip she had on his jaw replicated it, the need and the hunger for one another controlling every one of their movements. The kiss itself was messy, disorganized and fueled by need – not their best, she thought, but her favorite.

She’d thought he was dead. Gone. Nothing but a memory.

He pulled away reluctantly, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath and she found herself laughing once more, unable to stop herself, the thought that any ‘curse’ they could have had be actually real so implausible. Like there was anything that could stop them from being together – different planets, alternate universes, time – they were still here.

Still them.

“We’ll talk?” She asked, not daring to pull away from him for longer than a few moments. They should separate, find their team, formulate a plan. She can’t bring herself to move.

He nodded, their foreheads knocking slightly. “Got a lot to talk about.” He agreed, the shy smile he shared a beat later so reminiscent of the first time they’d made love and she damn near giggled as she brought him down closer, once more.

When they find their team – almost an hour later – she’d lost most of the robe, Fitz’s jacket over her shoulders and a suspicious amount of gold paint around his lips and on his neck and other places that she thanked they couldn’t see, but no one said a word.

Jemma linked their fingers together, careful not to disturb the jacket still resting on her shoulders and tucked her head into his neck, breathing in his scent. She was likely making the display of gold along his beard worse, but she didn’t mind.

Around them, the team bustled, discussing the events in which had brought them there and hashing out scenarios to get home, but she remained mum, hardly finding it time to tell them she already was.


End file.
